


The Little Girl

by TerraZeal



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-28
Updated: 2014-08-28
Packaged: 2018-02-15 04:41:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2216208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TerraZeal/pseuds/TerraZeal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After hunting and dispatching a family of ghosts, Sam wonders what happened to the little girl and whether or not Someone saved her or let her go wherever ghosts go. Chuck!God.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Little Girl

_**Author's Note:** Based off that song. I heard it on the radio today and just thought, that might make an interesting fic if I give it a twist, so I wrote a fic. Takes place after There Can Be No Peace, though I am not finished with that fic. For all intents and purposes, Dean/Cas, Sam/Loki, Bobby/Rachel are couples. Just go with that! Chuck!God._

 

_The Little Girl_

 

 

They had just finished dispatching a FAMILY of ghosts. That wasn't new, but was certainly unusual for them. It had really hurt to see the little girl. Her form bloody, beaten, and then fading. Sam knew why she was doing what she was doing, and part of him sympathized with her. She had been killed by her parents before they shot themselves.

 

She hung around, inflicting pain and suffering on those around her, just like the abuse she had suffered at the hands of her family. Family. They shouldn't beat you. Abuse you. Sure, Sam had had a father that was never really around, but his father had never beat him. And his mother had loved him, even though he hadn't known her.

 

As if sensing his sadness, Loki put an arm around Sam.

 

“Whats wrong, babe? I can feel you being emo from across the room.”

 

Despite loving each other, the Trickster still occasionally got on Sam's nerves. Still, he leaned into Loki, nuzzling his chest a bit.

 

“Just...this case is all. I felt bad getting rid of the girl. She was what, ten, when she was murdered? I mean, if I were in her place, I would do the same thing...I would want revenge. Somehow.”

 

Loki kissed him softly. “You're not, Sammy. Its over. Let it be and move on. I...don't know what its like being human, or having a family...but I'm guessin' this case hit you pretty hard. You said it did, but sometimes I just don't know how your mind works, even now.” Loki licked Sam's cheek, attempting to get him to lighten up a bit.

 

Not even Loki's love was getting Sam's spirits up today. He had felt so bad when he saw her face as he burned her bones in front of her. Almost...sad...as if she wished she could change something.

 

Sam sighed, put an arm around Loki, and they went back to the Impala and Rachel's truck. Sam and Loki had taken to riding in the back of the Impala while Dean and Cas rode up front, with Dean driving. Rachel and Bobby alone rode in her truck.

 

They took turns driving. Bobby seemed to like driving trucks a lot, so Rachel let him. Sam was glad Bobby found love. They were even talking about a marriage date sometime soon. They were already engaged. Dean and Cas had gotten married in some other state. One that allowed gay marriage.

 

Sam and Loki hadn't talked marriage yet, but he knew they would get married. He couldn't imagine loving anyone but the Trickster. His smiles, his jokes, his...loving. Everything about him that made him Loki. Or Gabriel. Even if he HAD ended up remembering, Sam would still love him.

 

He sighed and slid in the Impala, leaning his head on Loki's chest. The Trickster softly stroked his hair, murmuring words of comfort to him. They didn't register. Sam had fallen asleep almost as soon as he had lain down.

 

Elsewhere, on a plain of pure white nothing, a sad little girl stood, looking down at what had once been her home.

 

“Why did I have to go? Why, light people?” the little girl questioned the people who called themselves Reapers.

 

“The natural order...it must be maintained....maintained...or else chaos will break loose...” One muttered, almost incoherently.

 

“Lead her on. Don't waste time answering her silly questions.” A tall man in black, with a cane and a thick white ring said this. The other Reapers seemed almost scared of him. They backed away. The man held out a hand.

 

“Come, child. Your place isn't here to linger. You've lingered on long enough. You must move on.”

 

The little girl cocked her head at the man, not at all scared by him, not after all she'd seen, and done, in her life and death. “Why, shadow-man? Why can't I just watch what was once my home? I had friends...before daddy put a bullet in me and mommy's head. I just want to play with my friends again.”

 

Her lower lip was puckering, as if she were about to cry. Death really had no expertise in the area of comforting children. Normally he just made them move on, regardless of what their previous life was like. It was his job. He was Death. Had been for millennium.

 

“Child, take my hand.” Death held out a hand.

 

“Wait. I would like a word with this young girl, if you please, Death.” A man in white had appeared behind Death. The Reapers bowed and backed up further. Death, recognizing God, nodded slightly.

 

“A word you may have, but Death is the natural order of things, even you, God, must know this.”

 

“I do know this, Death. I ask for but a moment of your long, long life.”

 

Death knew when he was defeated and merely gave God a sideways glance and vanished, along with his Reapers, to go about keeping the natural order elsewhere. Death himself never intervened unless necessary or if something interested him. Anything involving those Winchester boys and their lovers interested him lately. For some reason. Death sighed.

 

Back on the white plain of nothing, the little girl, angry slightly that the other people had disappeared, despite their insistence that she move on, turned on the man in white. “Are YOU here to tell me to move on too? Do you wanna take me away from my friends?”

 

A soft hand softly stroked her brown hair, which had been caked with blood in her ghost form, and matted and ratty in her living form, but was now silky and perfectly combed. “No. Did you hear what that man called me? The, uh, shadow man?”

 

“He called you God. So what? My mommy and daddy said goddamn this and goddamn that all the time. You just damn stuff and make me hurt.” The little girl stamped her foot and turned her gaze back on that of her former friends playing, happily, unawares of her predicament and death, and haunting.

 

“You're right. I'm sorry. Can I...make it up to you?” the man asked the little girl.

 

She turned her angry gaze on him. “Are you gonna bring us all back to life so mommy and daddy can hurt me again? So they can do things to me? I never got to bring friends over. I had friends at school. I never meant to hurt them. Any of them. Even the men who sent me here. I just didn't want to leave. I just wanted to be like them.” She was crying now, at least, crying as much as her ghostly form would allow.

 

Chuck/God knelt and wrapped the little girl in His arms. He hated seeing things like this happen. But it was free will. He would make THIS right. This one time, He would interfere. He would break His own rules. Death could suck it.

 

“I'll give you another chance. Another life. A better life. Someone to love you. You won't remember anything about this, about your former life. I promise it will be better. You may never love Me. But I will make this right.” Chuck stood, taking the little girl's hand, leading her to the edge of the nothing, the endless plane of white emptiness.

 

“Do you want another chance? Another life? Friends?”

 

The little girl sobbed, but managed to nod. “I won't remember You. You helped me. You love me even when my own mommy and daddy...”

 

“I will always love you. And everyone else.” Chuck hugged her again, before giving her a light push.

 

The little girl hesitated only a moment before stepping into the endless white light, vanishing. Chuck closed His eyes. She would find a good home. A loving family.

 

Elsewhere, a young girl around ten had just been adopted by a devout Christian family. She had no memory of her previous life before she had just appeared on the doorstep of the agency, but somehow she was almost instantly adopted by loving parents.

 

Her first day of Sunday school, the teacher found her staring at a picture of Jesus Christ nailed to the cross.

 

“Who is that man, miss teacher?”

 

“Child, that man is our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ.”

 

“I know that man. I've...met him. All I remember off my life before mommy and daddy adopted me was him. He sent me here. So I know he got off that cross!” At the teacher's baffled look, the little girl just turned back to the image of the man on the cross. A feeling of peace and calm settled over her as she continued to stare at Him.

 

Other children started filing in, brushing past her. One recognized her as a new student and grabbed her over to be his partner for a game they would be playing. He asked if she wanted to be friends. She smiled and said yes.

 

Later that day, the teacher took them outside, to admire God's work as it was in the outside world.

 

In the Impala, as Dean was driving through a town, not paying attention to anything, Sam noticed something strange. He poked Loki, who had been nibbling on his ear.

 

“The little girl...doesn't she look...”

 

Loki nodded. “She does. Huh. Well, God works in mysterious ways. She definitely alive. I am a god after all. I know these things. She's not a ghost.”

 

Sam settled back in his seat and let Loki continue to nibble his ear. God. The little girl. Maybe...God had seen what Sam had too. That what had happened to her was wrong and given her a second shot at life. She was smiling, happy, playing with other children. No bruises, no matted hair...God truly had saved her.

 

The little girl.


End file.
